


I Love College

by Jacketarearmpants



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22298581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacketarearmpants/pseuds/Jacketarearmpants
Summary: Mike, Dustin, Lucas, Will, and Max—and Max's introverted roommate, El—decide to do something they've only seen in movies: go to a college party.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper & The Party, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	1. Nothing Wrong With Some Fun

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is the multi-chapter AU that I've been teasing for at least a month or two. It was supposed to be released in December, however it had to go through multiple rewrites and the editing process took way longer than anticipated.
> 
> I based this fic off both my own college experiences and The Weekend Classic’s cover of “I Love College” originally by Asher Roth. That is also where the name of both the fic and the chapter titles come from.
> 
> Of course, shout out to @leetheshark for being an amazing beta/editor. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_**Friday, October 18th** _

Normally, on a Friday afternoon, Room 306 of Western Indiana University's Jennings Freshman Residence Hall is quiet and peaceful. Today isn’t a normal Friday afternoon.

“Dustin, I swear to GOD if you throw another blue shell, I will FUCKING CURB STOMP YOUR CAT!”

“Two things, Mike! One, leave Mews out of this! And two, it’s not my fault you absolutely SUCK at getting good pickups!”

"Will, _please_ tell me it's not fair that Dustin got like forty blue shells," Mike begs, flicking his attention to the smaller man sitting on Dustin's bed. 

"It's not fair,” Will replies, glancing up from his sketchbook. “But it is really funny."

"Hey, can you guys not kill each other for five minutes?" Lucas chimes in from Mike's desk. "I need to finish this homework or Professor Owens is going to hate me."

"Lucas,” Dustin says, “you have like a 95 in that class. You should take a break so you don't end up burning yourself out." 

"I appreciate the concern, but this is _kinda_ the reason I have a 95. I have like two problems left and then we can start sorting out what you guys want to do tonight." 

"Sounds good." Dustin promptly returns his attention to the Mario Kart game at hand.

A couple minutes go by before a knock at the door startles everyone out of their concentration. 

Mike sighs, unfolding his lanky frame off the floor to answer the door. “I bet it’s RA Steve telling us to quiet down.”

"At 2:30 on a Friday?” Will replies. “Very unlikely. Besides, you should hear the loud ass music he blasts at one in the morning." 

Mike shrugs and opens the door to the hallway. Instead of the 5’11” RA he’s expecting, though, he’s greeted by the much shorter redhead that is Lucas’ girlfriend.

"Max!" Mike beams. "What's up? What are you doing here?" 

"What,” Max responds, looking up at Mike with a grin, “I can't come by and see my favorite losers?"

"Considering you've been hanging out with us losers since middle school, what does that make you?"

"Fucking Mother Teresa. Now you going to let me in or do I have to fight you?" 

"That would be pointless,” Mike admits as he steps aside, letting Max into his room. “You and I both know you’d kick my ass.”

Lucas looks up from his homework, his face morphing slowly into a grin at the sight of Max. “Hey, babe.”

"Hey, Lucas!" Max waves at Dustin and Will as she crosses the room to Lucas, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. "Economics been kicking your ass recently?"

Lucas readjusts in the chair, so that he can properly kiss Max on the lips. "You have no idea, _Little Miss Undeclared."_

"If you two are really about to make out right now,” Dustin cuts in, “I want you to realize that both of your rooms are on this floor and are within 20 fucking steps of each other.”

"Dustin, you're just jealous ‘cause you don’t have a girlfriend," Lucas retorts. "And besides, this _is_ the Unofficial Party Hangout Zone.”

"I did _not_ consent to any of that,” Dustin insists. "When was this decided?" 

"First week of school, I think you must have missed the meeting," Will deadpans, closing his sketchbook to face the now fully-assembled Party gathered before him. 

Truth be told, the Party all thought they would end up in Chicago for college. They’ve been one collective unit since Will and Mike became best friends at six years old. Dustin joined in second grade, Lucas in fourth, and finally, Max in sixth. Ever since their first month at Hawkins Middle, the now completed Party has been inseparable. Chicago was the closest major city and had plenty of options for schooling, so it seemed like the perfect choice.

That changed in January of the Party’s senior year, when all five of them got early acceptances from Western Indiana University. When they sat down for one of their weekly meetings in Mike’s basement, they decided that Western Indiana had everything they needed. It wasn’t the largest university—it only had about eight thousand undergrads—but it was nowhere near as small as some of the other colleges in Indiana. It was affordable, even without the substantial scholarships and financial aid all of them would receive. The university was located in Whitefolk, only two hours from Hawkins, making it far enough to let them become independent, but close enough that they wouldn’t be too far from their families. Western Indiana University has become their home away from home.

“Soooo,” Max blurts out, “what are you guys doing tomorrow night?”

“Don’t know yet,” Will shrugs. “Probably just hang out here and be idiots.”

"Dope,” Max says, “because I got word of a homecoming party tomorrow night that I think we should go to.”

"You mean the one in the house off Fairfield Street?" Mike asks. 

"Yeah!”

"Kate from me and Mike's engineering class told us about it," Dustin adds. "We were thinking about going to it, but we weren't sure who else would be down.”

“This _would_ be our first college party,” Lucas comments. “Since you want to go, we can probably go as a group."

"You should invite El," Mike interrupts, turning to face Max. He’s met with a series of knowing looks from around the room. 

Dustin grins. “Of _course_ you want to invite El.”

“Ooh,” Max croons at Mike, “I wonder why you want to invite _her.”_

Mike flips the two of them off.

"Dustin, I know what you're thinking, and you're not wrong, but fuck you. Seriously,” Mike speaks calmly, “she's been hanging out with us a lot and Max said she never leaves the room except for class or to spend time with us so this could be a good opportunity to get to know her a little better and for her to come out of her shell.”

"Besides,” Lucas chimes in, “she's from Detroit. She can act as our security.” The rest of the Party chuckles.

“That’s actually not a bad idea, though,” Max continues, turning her attention back to the group. "I've been low-key wondering what kind of drunk she is." 

“How about this,” Lucas says, standing up from the chair at Mike’s desk. “Max can ask El when she gets home from class later, and then we can all meet up at six in the dining hall to make a plan.”

"Sounds good," the Party agrees in unison.  


* * *

  
Max fiddles with the dorm keys in her pocket as she walks down the hall. Her room, 312, is just a couple doors down from Lucas and Will’s in 302 and Mike and Dustin’s in 306. When she opens her door and steps into her room, she can’t help but take stock at the polar opposite halves before her. Max’s side of the room can best be described as cluttered. Random papers are scattered across the desk next to her laptop, her bed hasn't been made since she moved here in August, and various video game and pop punk posters cover the walls in no apparent pattern. She nearly trips over her haphazardly placed skateboard on the way to her desk.

El’s side of the room, on the other hand, is almost picture perfect. Colorful class supplies and nail polish line her immaculate desk, her bed is freshly made with its bright pink comforter, and—oddly enough—the only thing on her wall is a large Detroit Lions poster.

Max settles down at her desk and turns on her laptop. It’s only 3:50, which gives her 40 minutes until El gets out of class at 4:30, so she decides to kill some time and play some video games. While her computer starts up, Max finds herself thinking about the upcoming party. It’s great that she and the boys are going, Max thinks, because it’s kind of a mandatory experience for a college student to go to a rowdy party, drink shitty beer, and make poor decisions. She wonders what El will say.

Eleanor Jane Ives, El for short or EJ to annoy her, isn’t a bad roommate. She cleans up after herself, doesn't have guests over, and mostly keeps to herself. Max has heard bits and pieces of El’s story, and knows that El comes from a foster home in Detroit and hasn’t had the best life. El is a psychology major and works hard at it, spending most of her time studying in her and Max’s home. Max didn’t manage to get El out of the room for anything other than food or studying until halfway through September, when she introduced El to the rest of the Party. Even though El is as introverted as a person can be, she and the boys hit it off. It wasn’t long before El became a regular feature of Party hangouts. But even then, El is still the shy and enigmatic psychology major who spends most of her time in her room.

Max drops that line of thinking when she’s greeted by the Steam login page. She quickly gets lost in the world of The Witcher, until the sound of the door opening breaks her concentration.

"Hey, Max," El chirps as she walks into the room, gently placing her backpack on the ground. 

"Hey, El!" Max pulls herself away from her laptop screen. "How was class today?" 

El groans. "Professor Brenner is going to be the death of me.” She plops down in her desk chair and runs her hands through her light brown hair, which falls back down to her shoulders. "He’s having us do a fifteen page paper by the end of the semester!”

"Jesus.” Max cringes. “That sucks. But at least you’ve got the weekend to look forward to" 

"Yeah, I guess,” El sighs, reaching into her laptop bag.

_"Speaking_ of the weekend.” Max turns in El’s direction. “I have something to ask you.”

"What is it?”

"What are you doing tomorrow night?"

“Nothing really.”

"Good! Because there's a homecoming party me and the boys are going to go to, and I wanted to invite you. What do you think?”

"Is it the one that's off of Fairfield Street?" El asks. "I heard some girls in my class talking about it." 

"Yeah, it's basically the nerd party. It's, like, the party you go to when you're not part of a frat or sports or anything. So, you in?"

“Huh…” El takes a moment to think about it. “That sounds like it could be fun.”

"Cool!” Max beams. “Come to the dining hall with me tonight and we’ll plan out the whole schedule!”

“Okay!” El smiles, turning back to her laptop.  


* * *

  
_A party! What the hell was I thinking?_

El doesn’t know much about parties. Most of her knowledge comes from terrible movies, or from stories that her foster sister Kali told her about warehouse parties back home in Detroit. Still, El thinks, if they’re half as fun as they look sometimes, she might not be in for a bad time. Besides, she’s going with Max, and even though they’re not exactly best friends yet, they look out for each other. Plus, the boys are coming, and El gets along with all of them pretty well.

_Oh no._

_The boys are coming._

_Oh no._

"Max?" El calls over her shoulder, toward Max’s desk across the room.

"Yeah?”

"When you said you're going with the boys to this party… did you mean all of them?" El turns in her chair to face Max, her voice shaking.

"Yep,” Max says nonchalantly.

"Does that include him?" 

"Yes, it does include your little crushy wushy." 

"Max!” El drops her head into her hands. “I told you that in confidence!”

"Yeah.” Max grins. “And I'm _confident_ you have a fucking crush."

"What should I do?” El groans into her hands. “Max, I'm going to be so awkward around him!" 

“Tell you what,” Max says with a knowing smile. “Once you have a little bit of alcohol in you and you start feeling a little loose, why don’t you try talking to him about it? He might even like you back!”

"Max, if you weren't such such a jerk sometimes, I would believe you."

“Whatever, you know you like me.” Max smirks. “It’ll be a lot of fun, trust me.”  


* * *

  
The McMillan Dining Hall is Western Indiana’s newest building. It was completed two years before the Party entered the University and decked out with a massive ice cream station, multiple soda fountains, and even an extensive salad bar. It’s in front of this salad bar that Max and El manage to find a table that can fit six people.

"Where is everyone?" El wonders. "They're supposed to be here by now" 

“Well...” Max sighs. “Lucas said six, so I fully expect them to show up at 6:15. At least it gives us time to get some food.”

They break and head in opposite directions, reuniting in a couple minutes, Max with a plate full of French fries and a slice of pizza, and El with a bowl of cereal and a small salad.

Max balks at El’s bowl. "Are you seriously eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch for dinner?"

"Hey, I'm an adult now, so I can do whatever I want. Besides,” El fires back, “didn't you eat gummy bears for lunch yesterday?” 

“You win this round, Ives.” Max laughs, putting one hand up in mock surrender.

“Oh!” El’s head whips toward the entrance. “There they are.”

_Jesus,_ Max thinks, _I forget how tall Mike is sometimes._ He stands at least a couple inches above Lucas, who in turn stands a couple inches above Dustin. The only member of The Party remotely near Max’s diminutive height is Will, and even then, he’s still a few inches taller than her. _At least El is my height._

“Hey, boys!” Max shouts as they approach. “Where’s Will?”

“He’s at a PRISM thing,” Dustin responds, checking his calculator watch. “Should be here in about ten minutes.” 

“Hey, guys!” El greets, waving at Mike, Dustin, and Lucas as they sit down.

“Cereal for dinner?” Mike looks over El’s plates with a smile. “I like your style.” 

El chuckles in return. “Yeah, there aren’t that many good options.”

“I’ll find something I like.” Mike holds El’s gaze for a few seconds, before bashfully looking away. “Let’s get some food while we wait for Will.”

“Fine by me,” Lucas says as he rises from the table, gesturing for Dustin to do the same. The three of them split off, hunting amongst the buffet tables.

“El,” Max whispers the second the boys are out of earshot, “I _honestly_ thought you were about to tackle him the second he was within two feet of you. Just tell him already!”

“Jesus, is my face that bad?” El asks as a blush rises on her cheeks.

“This time it was just your goo goo eyes,” Max teases. “Still, you have a crush! Why not take a shot? What the worst that can happen?” 

“Hey, Max! Hey, El!” A voice suddenly pulls the two of them out of their secret conversation.

“Hi, Will!” Max turns to face the voice’s owner. “How was your PRISM thing?” 

“It went okay,” Will says. “We’re planning our Second Chance Prom in a month. Where’s the rest of the Party?”

“They’re getting food,” El says.

“Oh, cool. I should probably do the same,” Will says, walking away from the table.

As Will turns a corner, Lucas plops down in his chair, a big plate of food in front of him. “When did Will get here?” 

“Like a minute after you three went to get food.” Max shrugs. “What’s the plan for tomorrow night looking like so far?” 

“Wait until everyone is seated, MadMax,” Lucas says, a flirty smile breaking across his face.

“Shut up, Stalker.” Max sticks her tongue out.

“Now I see why Dustin always complains about you two," quips El, even though she’s sad to break up the admittedly cute moment in front of her. 

"So El!” Lucas turns toward her. “Max told us that you're down to come to the party with us!"

"Really?” El’s surprised, since she’s been with Max this whole time. “When did she tell you that?”

"In our group chat," Lucas explains, pulling out his phone. "Which reminds me, now that you’re kind of a tangent member of The Party, we should probably add you.”

"Isn’t it really secretive?”

"Yes and no,” Dustin cuts in as he slides into his seat, having overheard their conversation. “Yeah, it's totally secretive. But since you're kind of _sort of_ part of us, we might as well start dealing you in on stuff.”

“Oh,” El says, nervous. “Okay.”

"What do you want your nickname to be?” Lucas asks, phone in his hands.

"What are my choices?”

"Up to you.”

“You can just make me _El.”_

"Good choice," Lucas jokes as he types. “Sticking with a classic. We’ll find one for you eventually.” Suddenly, El gets a notification on her phone. She pulls the device out of her pocket to look at it. 

"Why is the chat called...?" El questions, voice dropping off as she realizes she’s too shy to say it aloud. Max, Lucas, and Dustin start snickering.

"What are we laughing about?" asks Mike as he walks toward the table, Will at his heels.

"Nothing, just El's reaction to _FuckHands McMike and Friends,"_ Lucas says with a grin as the two take their respective seats. 

"It's a long story," Mike groans as he turns to El. "So Lucas added you to the chat?" 

"Yeah," El says, smiling at Mike. “I don’t have a nickname yet.”

Mike mirrors El’s contagious smile. “We’ll find you one. It’s a good thing we don’t have to depend on Max to invite you to things anymore.”

"Bite me, Mike," Max interrupts. "So Lucas, what’s the plan for tomorrow night?"

“Yeah Lucas,” Will chimes in, “what’s your master plan?”

“All right, _first,”_ Lucas addresses the group, “we can get dinner at the burrito place off of Main Street at six. Then we can head back to our dorms around seven to get ready, then meet up at Mike and Dustin's dorm so we can pregame. And then we can walk to the party. According to Google Maps, it’s only an eight minute walk.”

"Pregame?" El asks.

Mike rushes to be the one to answer. "It just means to, like, hang out beforehand and take a couple drinks, so that you don't have to drink too much at the party.”

“Lucas,” Will asks, “what are we going to drink in the dorm?" 

"My friend Jay is going to get me a bottle of something that we can all split," Lucas answers. "Any suggestions?" 

"Fireball!" Dustin says, his mouth breaking into a grin.

“All right, then,” Lucas says with a flourish. “The plans have been made.”

Mike turns to El, leans in close, and says, “I can’t wait for tomorrow night.”

“Yeah,” El says, trying to will the blush from her face. “Me neither.”


	2. Time Isn't Wasted When You're Getting Wasted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some quick notes, This is based of the first college party I ever attended. There was an IT reference in this chapter but it got tweaked slighty. See if you can maybe still see it.
> 
> And I already mentioned this in tags but this chapter in particular has mentions of underage drinking.

**_Saturday, October 19th_**

Mike isn't 100% sure that the liquid in his cup isn't poison. Trying to drink multiple shots of it over the last fifteen minutes has felt like trying to swallow razor blades for fun. 

"Jesus fuck, Lucas," Mike chokes. "What the fuck is this?" 

"Hey, don't get mad! Dustin was the one that recommended Fireball." 

"Hey!” Dustin shoots back. “It was the first thing that popped into my head." 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Mike groans, attempting another swallow. “I’m gonna drink it anyway, since we _literally_ have nothing else, but I want you to know I’m in pain right now.”

"Just let me know when you want more," Lucas says with a knowing smile. He turns back to his conversation with Will and Dustin, leaving Mike in his own thoughts. 

Mike looks down over his outfit once more. When he asked about the dress code in the group chat, he was met with a series of responses that just told him to dress “cool.” Here’s the problem: Mike isn’t exactly the most popular guy in the world, so dressing “cool” isn’t something that comes naturally to him.

At first, Mike tried to dress how he did in high school. That didn’t work, since he’s pretty sure that faded swim team t-shirts aren’t cool. He eventually settled on his current outfit: a pair of black and white Converse, dark jeans, a gray t-shirt with the NASA logo on it, and a black and white hooded flannel. His hair is running amok, even though he tried to wrangle the black locks beforehand, because unfortunately, without any product, they weren’t going anywhere. Compared to the other boys, Mike feels underwhelming. The only other person in the room dressed remotely like Mike is Dustin, with his all black Adidas, gray jeans, and black hoodie emblazoned with the Triforce on the front. Dustin’s decided to ditch his signature baseball cap and instead let his brown hair out for the night.

It isn’t hard for Mike to feel insecure, especially when he compares himself to the two other people in the room: the abundantly confident Lucas and the effortlessly stylish Will. Lucas isn’t dressed too fancy—he’s wearing a pair of purple and white Jordans, black skinny jeans, and a purple WIU sweatshirt with the University’s mascot, Dart the Demon Dog, printed on the front. His dark hair is cropped close to the sides of his head, creating a fade into the portion on top. But it’s not what Lucas is wearing, or how he looks, that makes a different. It’s how he commands himself: with a confidence that Mike doesn’t have. Lucas commands attention when he speaks. It kind of explains why Lucas has the longest relationship out of the entire Party, having been dating Max since their freshman year of high school.

Will’s newfound confidence and style is a recent development, but it’s one that Mike is happy for. If Mike was shown the Will of today, compared to the Will of high school, it would be like showing him two different people. Mike remembers just how scared Will used to be, a gay teenager in the close-minded town of Hawkins. Afraid of not being accepted, Will grew introspective and threw himself into art and painting, becoming easily one of the most creative and talented people that Hawkins High has ever seen. That all changed when the Party came to Western Indiana. Will began to find more people outside the Party who could accept him for who he is, finding friends in PRISM and in his art program. With these newfound connections, Will began to change for the better. His face is brighter, now, and smiles have become commonplace. He foregoes the oversized hoodies and jeans that made him invisible in exchange for items that speak for the artistic genius that lies within. His outfit tonight consists of a pair of black and white Converse, white skinny jeans, and a blue short-sleeved button-up. He got rid of the bowl cut that haunted him through high school and replaced it with a more appropriate haircut, with the sides of his head shaved close and a teased-up longer portion on top.

A knock at the door brings Mike out of his self-conscious thoughts.

“Fuck!” Lucas shouts, grabbing the half-full bottle of Fireball from the desk it was sitting on, and placing it in the dresser. “That might be Steve. Quick, everyone, put your cups in the fridge!”

The rest of the boys follow Lucas’ instructions quickly, placing their cups in the mini fridge and hopping onto the beds as Lucas crosses the room to open the door.

“By the way,” Max laughs as the door opens, revealing her and El standing in the hallway. “We heard you panicking.”

“Thank God you’re not Steve,” Lucas sighs with relief.

“Oh,” El says as she follows Max into the room. “We actually just saw him and the second floor RA walking toward the entrance. They were mumbling something about being thankful they don’t have duty today.”

Redistributing the stashed cups to Will and Dustin, Mike moves his focus for a split second to the two girls that just entered, catching a glimpse of Max’s outfit between Will and Lucas. It consists of a pair of checkerboard Vans, black leggings, a pair of cutoff white overalls covered in a pattern of Marvel characters, and a red long-sleeved t-shirt underneath.

“Hey, Max! Hi, El!” Mike nods from his spot in front of the fridge. Once he’s done giving everyone their cups back, he stands up fully to face Max and El, and—

_Holy fuck, El is beautiful._

She’s wearing a pair of all white Converse, tight black jeans, and a form-fitting teal turtleneck. Mike’s eyes flick down to her waist, where a blue hoodie is tied. Her face is slightly made up, highlighting her cheekbones and hazel eyes. Her light brown hair, which normally hangs down with no apparent style, is instead pulled back in a half-bun. 

El’s voice breaks Mike’s trance. “Hey, Mike!”

“Hey!” Mike says, shaking his head slightly to regain his composure. “Cups are over on my desk and the Fireball’s on the bed. Careful, though, it’s really strong.”

“That’s fine,” El smiles, reaching for the cup on Mike’s desk. “Hey, Mike, can I ask you for something?”

“Sure,” Mike replies, having just given a cup to Max, who turns back to Lucas.

“Can I have your phone number?” El starts to ramble, “It’s just that, I know I’m in the group chat, but just in case the internet isn’t available… And I only have Max’s number, so I was just thinking—”

“No problem!” Mike cuts her off, reaching into his pocket for his phone. “I understand! Better safe than sorry.”

“Okay, cool!” El breathes out, the anxiety from her previous ramble leaving her slumping shoulders.

“Yeah,” Mike says, “no problem! Just put in your number and I’ll shoot you a text.” When he hands his phone over, El gladly takes it and types away.

“Done!” El smiles, handing the phone back. Mike graciously accepts it and types away, too. El feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. She takes it out to find a single text message. 

_**hhhhhhhhhh**_

“Why just ‘h’?” El laughs, looking back up Mike.

“First thing that came to mind,” Mike says with a grin, before continuing with a dramatic flourish. “Now that that's over with, would you like a drink?” 

“I would love a drink.”

Mike grabs the Fireball of the desk Max left it on. “How much do you want?”

“Just a little bit,” El says, unsure in her decision, but willing to at least try it.

Mike pours about a shot of the liquor into El’s Solo cup. “Careful,” he reiterates, “it’s _really_ strong.”

Mike hands the cup to El, then grabs his own and pours some Fireball in it.

“How about a toast?” he asks.

“Sounds good,” El replies, raising her cup.

“To the memories this night will bring, both good and bad,” Mike says, tapping his cup against El’s and then throwing back the shot in one smooth motion. 

El attempts to mimic Mike’s method, but Mike was right—the liquor _is_ really strong. Like, painful strong. Even though El manages to get it down, she starts coughing violently, tears welling up in his eyes. Mike immediately starts to reach for her, concern etched on his face. So El does the first thing that crosses her mind. She falls into Mike’s now-outstretched arms. By now, the rest of the Party has heard El’s coughing and turned to see the two of them embracing. Mike looks back at them as El’s coughing begins to slow. He catches Max’s gaze, and she winks at him. Finally, El stops coughing and looks up at him, shining eyes returning to normal.

 _God,_ El thinks, _he is so attractive._

“Are you okay?” Mike asks, face soft with concern and care.

“I-I am n-now,” El coughs, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. 

“Good,” Dustin says, patting El gently on the shoulder, “because we should probably head out soon.”

Mike realizes he and El are still hugging and pulls hurriedly away. “Gotcha,” he says to Dustin, before looking back down at El. “You don’t have to drink at the party if you don’t want to.”

“It’s fine,” El smiles up at him. “I think I just burned my lungs.”

“It did the same thing on my first shot, too,” Mike says, returning El’s smile. “There’ll probably be lighter stuff there. And if that doesn't help, we _could_ use a sober buddy.”

“I’ll be okay,” El shrugs. “I think I can at least drink something.”

Max’s loud voice breaks the moment. “Hey! Asshats!”

“Yeah?” Mike and El say in unison, turning to the rest of the group.

“We’re about to head out,” Will says. “You guys ready?”

“Well,” El says, turning back again to look at Mike. “We are now.”  


* * *

  
The walk to the house isn’t that complicated. It’s actually quite uneventful, with the exception of two things. First, the group takes a wrong turn, turning the 8 minute walk into an 18 minute walk. Second, Max gets cold, so Mike gladly gives up his flannel for his friend. Pretty soon, the group finds themselves meandering down Fairfield Street, looking for the house.

"There it is!" Will shouts, pointing down the street. 

The house isn’t too big. It’s nowhere near the size of a mansion, but it’s still bigger than any of the houses any of the Party grew up in. They can tell they’re at the right house from the loud music and general commotion that they can already hear from a few houses away.

As the group mentally readies themselves to enter the house, Mike turns to face the rest. “Hey guys,” he begins. “I just want to let you know that if any of you get uncomfortable, or want to leave, or anything, let me know and I’ll gladly walk back to Jennings with you.”

Dustin grins. “You’re a good man, Mike. Let’s see how this night goes.”

The Party nods in unison and begins up the front path.  


* * *

  
Loud music blasts from another room. The house is hot and humid, with the strong scents of sweat and alcohol hanging in the air. But the conversations the group overhear through the noise seem, all things considered, nerdy. Plus, the Party recognize some of the faces scattered around, so they feel comfortable.

“HOLY FUCK!” A loud voice shatters the initial concentration of the group. “Are those my motherfucking residents?” 

The Party turn to face the direction of the call-out as the owner of the voice, a tall man wearing jeans and an Indiana Pacers T-shirt, stumbles out of a room. He’s joined by a dirty blonde woman wearing a My Chemical Romance hoodie and black jeans. 

“Steve!” Dustin questions. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m 24,” Steve yells back. “What are you underaged shitheads doing here?”

“What are you?” Max jokes. “A cop?”

“Not yet,” Steve laughs, running a hand through his impressively voluminous hair. “By the way, guys, this is Robin, the second floor RA.”

“Hey guys,” Robin says with a small, awkward wave.

“Hi!” El waves back.

“What's the layout looking like?” Lucas asks.

“Well, you got video games in basement,” Robin answers. “Up here, there’s beer pong, flip cup, and poker. Alcohol’s in the kitchen, and the chill rooms are upstairs.”

“Chill rooms?” Will asks. “Also what kind of alcohol is there?” 

Steve answers him. “Rooms where there’s no loud music or games. Just places to kinda hang out and take a breather. As for alcohol, you have Jungle Juice—”

“Jungle Juice?” Mike interrupts.

“Mixture of cherry vodka, Sprite, and Hawaiian Punch,” Robin explains. “As for other options, we got Tequila and Rum if you want to take shots, Smirnoff Ices, and Mike’s Hard.” 

Max leans over to El and whispers, “Wow, Mike’s hard already?”

El’s eyes widen as a ferocious blush sprints up her face, turning her quite literally crimson.

“Anyway, it’s good to see you fucks!” Drunk as he is, Steve’s speaking much louder than he needs to as he leaves with Robin down the hallway. “See you later!”

“Be safe,” Robin calls over her shoulder, leaving The Party standing in stunned silence.

Dustin’s the first to break it. “Well, AJ texted me on the way here, so I’m gonna get some alcohol and join him in the basement for some Smash Bros.” He leaves, heading through the door at the end of the foyer.

Max and Lucas break away from the group next. “I think me and Lucas are gonna try to run the beer pong table,” Max says, taking Lucas’ hand and heading to the kitchen.

“I think I hear Heather from PRISM upstairs. I’ll see you guys in a little bit,” Will says, waving as he heads up the stairs, leaving Mike and El standing alone.

“Well,” El says, turning to face Mike. “What now?”

“No idea,” Mike shrugs. “Let’s get some drinks and see where we end up.”

“Sounds like a plan,” El smiles, following Mike into the kitchen.  


* * *

  
The basement of the house looks painfully like the basement of every other house, with its worn leather sofas, beige walls, and mishmash of movie posters. There are three TV set-ups, each with its own group of people gathered around. Dustin scans the room while drinking from his Solo cup, full of the Jungle Juice Steve promised. _Not bad._

“Hey Dustin, over here!” calls out a lanky boy with shaggy red hair and glasses, standing at the TV farthest away from the door, where he and two other people are playing Smash Bros.

“AJ!” Dustin grins, heading in that direction. “How’s it going so far, man?”

“Same old, same old.” AJ smiles back, clapping his own hand against Dustin’s outstretched one. “You know, my Captain Falcon’s pretty good.”

“Oh, really?” Dustin says with mock surprise. “I bet I can take it.”

“We’ll see,” AJ says. He gestures to the tall, black-haired pale boy and shorter, pink-haired black girl seated to his right. “By the way, this is Alex and Madison.

“Yeah, I recognize them from engineering.” Dustin waves. “Hey guys, what’s up?”

“Nothing much,” Madison shrugs. “Just trying to survive with my Little Mac.”

“Same,” Alex agrees. “Except my Kirby’s at least _good.”_ That comment earns Alex a playful smack on the arm.

“Wait, Dustin, who’s your main again?” AJ asks as he searches for another controller. He finds a GameCube one and hands it over.

“Palutena.” Dustin grins as he accepts the controller. “What kind of rules are we playing today?

“We’re just kind of fucking around right now,” AJ explains, “but once we get more people, whoever gets fourth place gives up their controller and we’ll swap in and out from there.”

“Sounds good.” Dustin plops down on the couch next to Madison.

Dustin isn’t the best Smash player in the Party—that honor goes to Max—but he can hold his own. He’s a consistent presence in the game for the better part of the night, using the times he has to give up the controller to get more alcohol or go to the bathroom. He’s on a six-game winning streak when a well-timed Falcon punch knocks him out of the game and, unfortunately, out of the competition. By this time, the Smash Bros TV has grown from the original four players to around twelve.

“AJ,” Dustin announces, standing to give AJ a jaunty salute. “You beat me fair and square. I’m gonna take a break for a little bit, but don’t get too comfortable. I’ll be back.”

Dustin returns to the basement before long, finding his place leaning against the wall. He sips at his now refilled Solo Cup and watches as the Smash Bros tournament continues on.

“You play pretty well,” a high pitched voice says, and Dustin startles.

“Thanks,” he says, turning to face his newest companion. He’s greeted by a short girl with long black hair, pulled into a ponytail, and black, thick-rimmed glasses.

 _Oh, she’s cute,_ Dustin thinks. She’s wearing a purple, long-sleeved Western Indiana t-shirt, a black skirt, and a pair of black, knee high boots.

“Yeah,” she continues, smiling up at him. “I never knew you could do that with Palutena.”

“Who do you normally play as?” Dustin asks, trying to keep the blush off his face. _A cute girl smiling at me. Holy shit._

“Donkey Kong!” she answers. “His ground pound move’s really fun.”

“Yeah, and his wind up punch is pretty good.” Dustin extends his hand. “I’m Dustin, by the way.”

“I’m Suzie,” the girl says, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you, Dustin.”

"Where are you from?' 

"I'm from Utah," Suzie answers. "You?" 

"I'm from here," Dustin says, before taking another sip of his drink. “If you want, I could give you some tips for playing Palutena.”

“Hmm,” Suzie says. “I don’t know if you could teach me anything too important right now, but I’ll tell you what. You can give me your number, and maybe we could meet up later? So you can teach me some stuff.” With a shy grin, Suzie reaches into her pocket, pulls out her phone, and hands it to Dustin.

“Yeah!” Dustin stammers. He quickly types in his number. “Shoot me a text so I have yours?”

Suzie takes the phone back, smiles, and types. “Text has been sent!”

Dustin feels is phone vibrate, and pulls it out to check that it’s Suzie. “Now that we got that squared away,” Dustin says with a slight grin, “how about I just give you one quick trick right now?”

“I’d love that.”  


* * *

  
**Plink.**

“And that’s game!” Max taunts. She points finger guns at the lonely cup, now filled with two ping pong balls, sitting on the other end of the table in front of the defeated duo of Theo and Finn.

“Well, you beat us fair and square,” Theo says as he removes the two balls from the cup and tips the beer into his mouth.

“Good game,” Finn adds. He and Theo reach over the table to shake Max and Lucas’ hands before disappearing back into the crowd around the beer pong table.

"What's that? Eight games in a row undefeated?' Lucas shouts at the surrounding crowd, arms outstretched at his sides, raised in a playful challenge. "When are me and my _lovely_ girlfriend, Max, gonna be crowned Beer Pong king and queen?" He turns to point at Max, a blush crawling up her cheeks. 

That's one thing she likes about Lucas. Even though Mike is the de-facto leader of The Party, Lucas has a charm he can turn on whenever he wants, and get almost any crowd on his side. 

Greg, a taller man with short, blonde hair—one of the upperclassmen in Lucas’ economics major—answers him. “You two have to beat the reigning King and Queen first, if you even want to sniff that crown!”

“Well, go get them!” Max fires back. “In the meantime, we’ll take on anyone who wants to try us…”

Greg quickly disappears into the other room, phone in hand, as two others, Noah and Gabriella, step up the table to take on the terrible twosome.

The game is over before it even begins, with Max and Lucas crushing them, all while only losing a single cup. They’re still celebrating their most recent victory when a loud voice calls out over the noise—

“So who wants to take on the King and Queen?”

Suddenly, the crowd splits, to reveal the King and Queen, and—

"Robin? Steve?" Lucas and Max exclaim, staring at the two as they approach, high fiving people along the way. They’re visibly more intoxicated than earlier, with Steve sporting a nasty black eye and both of them wearing matching sailor hats.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me,” Steve gloats, smiling at Lucas and Max’s shock. “Don’t cream your pants.

“So _you’re_ the two assholes that want to come for our crowns,” Robin taunts, pointing to the sailor hat on her head.

“Robin,” Lucas deadpans. “That’s a sailor hat.”

"Same difference, shithead," Steve claps back, although there isn’t any real harshness behind his words. He turns to address the crowd. "So tonight, ladies and gentlemen, you’re all going to witness this championship match for the ages. The reigning King and Queen of the table—” Steve points to himself and Robin "—versus the challengers." He turns his hand toward Lucas and Max, before forming it into a finger gun and mock shooting them. 

"What are the rules?" Lucas asks, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to look intimidating. 

"See, we don't like to do all that fancy-schmancy bullshit that other people like to do," Robin says, taking her place at the head of the other side of the table. "We’ll do six cups, balls back if both make it, one re-rack, possible redemption shot, and the dagger to win.”

"Just double-checking,” Max asks, as Lucas gathers up and begins to fill the six Solo Cups with beer. “Dagger means that on the last cup, if you sink both, the other team has no shot at redemption?"

"Correct-a-mundo, Miss Mayfield," Steve laughs, as he begins to fill his and Robin's cups.

After all twelve cups are filled, the two teams set about arranging them out into perfect triangles on either side of the table. 

Once everything is set up, Steve asks, "You want to flip a coin to see who gets balls first?"

"Sure," Max replies.

"Call it." Steve fishes into his pocket and produces a quarter. He flicks into the air, catches it, and turns it onto his wrist. 

"Heads," Lucas spits out.

"Heads it is," Steve says, lifting the hand that was covering the coin.

Robin rolls the two ping pong balls across the table and Max and Lucas eagerly scoop up one each. 

It's an intense match with near misses, clutch shots, and Robin and Max almost clacking heads as they both dove for a live ball. Steve's sheer volume of shittalk starts getting under Lucas' skin, and he finds himself getting more and more heated with every taunt. Finally, it's down to the last stretch, both teams with one cup each remaining, alcohol swimming through their veins as the chance to be crowned the party King and Queen hangs in the balance. 

"Remember, dagger and redemption rules apply," Robin slurs.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Max dismisses her with a wave before lining up to take her shot. The ball flies wide left. "Lucas, bring this one home for us." 

"Anything for you, babe," Lucas smirks, before cocking his arm back and throwing the ball. In an eerie coincidence, Lucas' shot also misses wide left. 

"Welp, time to end this," Steve says, before throwing his own ball into the air. Max watches as it falls perfectly into the last cup, the surrounding crowd breaking out into cheers.

"And now it's time for the dagger to put you guys in the ground!" Robin taunts, pulling her arm back in preparation. As Max holds her breath, she watches as Robin’s shot misses, overshooting the table. 

"Redemption!" Lucas shouts.

"Yeah, I know that," Steve grins. "If both of you miss this, we win." 

Lucas lines up his shot first, taking deep breaths to help him focus. In some weird way, he feels like every decision he's ever made in his life has led to this very moment, as he gently takes his arm back and releases the ball. As the ball leaves his hand, he follows it with his eyes and watches as it flies gently through the air and slams neatly into the last cup. 

"OH MY GOD!" Robin exclaims.

“Max!” Lucas turns to Max, beaming. “If you make this, we win!”

To anyone else, beer pong is just a stupid game. In Max’s mind, though, it’s more than that. All her life, she's had to fight for everything she's gotten—whether it was fighting her dickhead of a step-brother so that she could date the love of her life, fighting with teachers at Hawkins High when they wouldn’t give her fair chances, even fighting with the WIU financial aid department to ensure that her education wasn't going to cost more than it should.

It may just be a pointless party crown, but to Max, it’s a reminder that she can do _anything._

She closes her eyes and breathes deep, remembering all the breathing exercises Mike taught her to help with anxiety. She opens her eyes and, with one fluid motion, releases the ball into the air. 

Time slows as the ping pong ball flies over the cheap folding table, everyone else waiting with bated breath, not knowing where it will land. But Max knows.

**Plink.**

"HOLY SHIT!" Lucas screams, wrapping his arms around Max.

Robin and Steve stand slack-jawed in amazement at the two freshmen who just took down the King and Queen. 

_It's almost like a movie,_ Max thinks as the crowd begins chanting both her and Lucas' names. 

Steve's hand suddenly shoots up, silencing the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, I may be a sore winner," he addresses, "but I am not a sore loser. So with some pride, allow me to introduce you to your new King and Queen" He and Robin walk around to the other side of the table and grab Max and Lucas' wrists, raising them into the air as the crowd erupts in cheers.

"That being said," Robin slurs, as she and Steve release their arms, “we're still not giving up these sweet sailor hats.”

Max and Lucas turn to their new subjects, all cheering, and share a well-earned victory kiss.  


* * *

  
As Will bounds up the carpeted steps leading to the second floor, he doesn’t know exactly what to expect up there. The description of the “chill rooms” that Steve gave earlier didn't really paint a vivid picture. When he turns the corner and faces down the upstairs hallway, he spies a familiar figure, clad in a pink A-line dress and black Converse, walking into one of the rooms. 

"Heather!" he exclaims. "What up?" 

"Will, oh my God, you came!" She smiles, turning away from the doorway she was about to enter, causing her long multicolored hair to flip dramatically over her shoulder. 

"Yeah,” Will says. “I heard you guys talking about it in PRISM. Me and a couple of my friends to my dorm already decided to come.”

"That's awesome! Speaking of PRISM, Josh and Aaron are here. You can hang out with us for a little bit if you want." 

“Yeah!” Will says, following her through the open doorway. “That sounds great!”

"Buenos dias, fuckboys!" Heather says to the two men sitting hand in hand on the couch. "You guys know Will from PRISM, right?" 

"Of course we do!" Aaron rises up from the couch, towering frame and all, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. "Bring it in, man." He quickly claps both his arms around Will in a friendly embrace.

"Hi, Will!" Josh smiles up at Will, his hands idly playing with the drawstring to his red hoodie. 

“Tell your boyfriend to get off me, please.” Will laughs, his face firmly resting against Aaron’s yellow button-up.

“Hey, four-eyes! Let the poor kid breathe!

"Kid?" Aaron asks, a smile on his face, as he releases Will. "He's only, like, a year younger than us.”

"That counts.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Aaron sits back down next to Josh, taking his hand again. “Hey Will, have you met David?”

Will didn't even realize there was another person in the room. 

David’s engaged in conversation with Heather, his shoulder-length blonde hair shaking every so often as he accentuates different points. Upon hearing his name, he breaks the conversation, turning to face the others.

"You must be David." Will smiles and extends his hand.

"Yeah, I am." David shakes it. "And you must be Will?" 

Will nods, sitting back down on the couch, still facing David.

"Yeah." Will says as he sits down on the couch next to Josh while still facing David.

“So,” David says. “Heather tells me you’re an art major?”

“Yeah, I am.” Will grins. “I just started, though, so I might not be that good. I’ve been drawing for a while, though.”

“I’m sure you’re talented,” Josh spouts. “I mean, if you got into the art program here, they must have seen something in you.”

“His tuition,” Aaron interrupts, before breaking down laughing. Josh playfully slaps him on the chest to shut him up.

“Hah. Whatever,” David says. He turns back to Will. “I’m a theater major, so I’m involved with WIST, the theater company on campus. We actually need a couple of artistically inclined people to help out with set design for the Spring play. Would you be interested in that?”

“I helped out with that last year,” Heather adds. “It was actually really fun!”

“Oh,” Will whispers, frowning. “Well, I’m more of a painter. I’m not really well-versed in things like architecture or construction.”

“We actually need painters!” David smiles. “Last year, we got swamped with all these engineering majors who built these intricate sets with basically no pizzazz.”

“I mean, I could give it a try. I haven’t had a lot of opportunities to showcase my work here. So that sounds like it could be fun.”

“Perfect! The interest meeting’s on Tuesday in Room 116 of the Student Center. Hope to see you there!”  


* * *

  
Mike plops down on the couch. After floating from activity to activity all night, it’s good to find a place to settle. The night’s alcohol flows through his veins and gives him a warm, tipsy sensation, as his mind swims through the journey that led him here.

After everyone split off to find their own thing, Mike headed to the kitchen with El, where they grabbed matching cups of punch. From then, Mike just wandered around. He and El were some of the unfortunate victims of Lucas and Max’s godly beer pong run. He managed to take a couple stocks off Dustin in the basement Smash Bros competitions. He even hung out with Will for a little bit. But, as they say, all good things come to an end. So when Mike saw an open couch in one of the upstairs chill rooms, he quickly claimed it.

Turning his thoughts back to the present, and turning to face the girl sitting next to him, Mike can’t help but be awed by her sheer adorableness. Relaxing next to Mike on the couch, El has a big grin on her face, no doubt feeling a little tipsy, too. She’s barely left Mike’s side the whole night, and Mike finds himself thinking… _Does she like me?_

_I mean, it would be awesome if she did._

The thought of Mike’s crush liking him back makes his eyes go wide, but the coherent part of his brain manages to kick back in.

_No, she’s probably just uncomfortable. This is her first time being with a lot of people and her first time drinking. She probably just feels safe with you, so she’s going to stick with you._

Mike nods his head at his brain’s solution for his racing thoughts. He pulls out his phone, thinking of texting the group chat to start heading home, when he gets distracted by his lockscreen. It’s a picture of him and Nancy from his High School Graduation. Mike’s wearing the stupid green and orange robes of Hawkins High School, and Nancy’s smiling with her arm around him. It’s a candid photo, taken by Jonathan, when the Wheeler siblings were laughing at a joke that an out-of-shot Dustin told.

A hand suddenly comes down on Mike’s shoulder, scaring him.

“Wow, Mike, who’s the girl in your lockscreen?” a clearly-drunk Steve slurs. “She’s really pretty. Robin, get in here!”

Mike turns to him. Anger floods through his veins and he prepares to give Steve the curse-out of the century—but then, El’s hand unexpectedly pats him on the side of the face. She does it a little harder than she intended, judging by the shocked look on her face. It forms back into a smile when Mike turns to her. His expression turns gentle. “What’s up, El?”

 _“Miiiiike,”_ El says, her smile widening. “I’m going to go get some water. Do you want anything?”

Mike looks down at his empty cup. “No, I’m good. But be careful.”

“I’ll be careful. Just for you.”

El rises to her feet, unsteady at first before finding her balance. She quickly walks out of the room, and so does Steve, still calling for Robin.

For what feels like the first time in his life, Mike is stunned to his core. The solution his brain came up with earlier crumbles apart as thoughts stampede through his inebriated mind.

_What the hell does that mean? Is she flirting with me? Or is she being nice because she’s drunk? What’s happening?_

He sits there in stunned silence for so long that he doesn’t even notice when El walks back into the room. “Hey, Mike?”

Mike brings his eyes up to face her. “What’s up?”

El sits back down beside Mike. The look on her face is a mix of beaming happiness and mild uncertainty, as if she really wants to say something, but she’s struggling to find the right words.

“I like you!” El blurts out after a couple seconds, before suddenly leaping forward and placing her lips on Mike’s cheek.

If the flirting from before was enough to stun Mike, the feeling of her soft lips on his skin is enough to send him into orbit. A mess of emotions cascades through Mike while El’s lips are still pressed against his cheek. When she removes them, a second or two later, the only one that Mike can coherently decipher is confusion.

_What just happened?_  


* * *

  
Mike’s face is still etched with confusion as the eight of them—the Party plus Robin and Steve—pile into the elevator of Jennings. Like everyone else, Mike’s brain is still pretty foggy from the alcohol

The elevator shudders to a violent stop as it arrives at the second floor. 

“Alright, this is me and Robin's stop," Steve slurs as the two of them exit the elevator. He quickly turns back to the six freshmen. "Don't do anything stupid and get to your dorm safe." 

“Yes, Steve,” the Party groans in unison as the elevator doors close, taking them up to the third floor.

The walk back to each of their respective dorms consists mostly of stumbling. Lucas fumbles for his keys and unlocks his and Will’s dorm before turning back to the rest of them.

“See you guys,” he says, disappearing into the room with Will, and leaving Mike, Dustin, Max, and El standing in the hallway.

The four of them continue their walk down the hall, soon pairing into the usual roommate arrangements, with Mike and Dustin standing in front of 306 and Max and El in front of 312. Mike unlocks the door and opens it, letting Dustin step through. He’s about to follow when he hears his name whispered from down the hallway.

“Hey, Mike.”

“Yeah?” Mike turns to face El. She’s standing in front of her door, Max having already gone inside.

“I had a good night,” she says.

And then, she winks.

For the second time of the night, Mike just stands there in stunned silence. El giggles and closes her door behind her.

If his world wasn't already spinning because of the alcohol, that wink definitely would have done the trick.


	3. On The Same Page

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is entirely based of my own hangovers.

_**Sunday, October 20th** _

_Water._

Mike needs water.

That’s the first thought that crosses his mind as his eyes open, painfully adjusting to the sunlight beaming through his window. His temples are pounding, his mouth is drier than a desert, and his stomach feels like it's in four different places at once. His legs feel shaky as he stumbles out of bed, but he’s able to cross the room to get the trusty bottle of water from inside his mini fridge. Once it’s in his hand, he's ready to chug it all down, but he stops upon remembering the advice that Nancy gave him during their weekly phone call on Friday: _Small sips._

Drinking the water is almost a spiritual experience for Mike, as his throat greedily takes in the moisture and his stomach more or less accepts it. Once he's done, he looks around the room and tries to piece together where he put everything in his drunken haze. His clothes are on the floor and his phone is still plugged in, so nothing has moved from where he put it last night. Dustin is still asleep, firmly planted on his bed. Mike decides in that moment to take a shower, feeling that the water will wash off every poor choice that happened last night. 

He quickly grabs his soap, shampoo, towel, and a basic outfit consisting of jeans and a Star Wars t-shirt. The walk to the communal bathroom isn't that hard of a walk normally, but for Mike and his hungover state, it takes a little while. Upon opening the door to the bathroom, he’s greeted by a prone body in a sailor hat that he quickly realizes is Steve.

 _Oh shit,_ Mike thinks, _is he dead?_

But then a loud snore emanates from Steve’s mouth, so Mike relaxes, steps over his body, and heads to one of the open showers. After putting everything in the proper place and disrobing, he turns the shower to the highest setting. 

The water on his body sends him into another plane of euphoria. It feels like angels are massaging his tired muscles, and as his headache begins to subside, his thoughts wander to the party and what happened at it last night. Though he doesn’t know all the details of what happened to the others, as he only heard bits and pieces during the walk home, he’s sure he’ll get filled in during group dinner. He heard so far that Dustin got a girl's phone number, that Max and Lucas somehow won the Beer Pong Crowns from Robin and Steve, and that Will now might get a position in the Student Theater Company.

And then the moment on the couch with El comes flooding back hard.

_"I like you."_

_What did El mean? Did she mean as a person, as a friend, or even...?_

Mike’s thoughts race. Could it be possible that the girl he has a crush on likes him back? He’s never had a serious girlfriend before, and truth be told, he’s scared.

He eventually decides, for the sake of his anxiety, that she meant it as a friend. Even though it pains him to think about it like that, it’s better to be prepared for the inevitable let down, whenever that comes.

He towels off, throws on his clothes, and heads back to the room. After hanging his towel and putting his toiletries back, he turns to his next order of business: breakfast. His stomach still feels upside down, but he knows that if he doesn’t put food in it sometime soon, it’ll feel worse.

He’s trying to decide whether or not to wake up Dustin when his phone vibrates.

**Hey Mike, it's me El. Do you want to get breakfast together?**

_Breakfast?_ Mike thinks. _Together?_

 _Sure,_ he types, _do you want me to wake up dustin so he can join us or invite the rest in the chat?_

**No.**

Mike hands start to tremble, and he gulps as he types his reply.

_Sure, that works. Dining Hall?_

**Yes. 10 minutes?**

_Okay, see you there._

Mike puts down his phone with wide eyes as his thoughts run rampant. _Why didn’t she want the others to come? Did he do something? Did he mess up? Oh fuck, did he make her feel uncomfortable?_

Mike pushes those thoughts aside, trying to collect himself as he puts on his sneakers, takes a couple of deep breaths, and decides to scroll through Twitter and Instagram until ten minutes pass by. 

With one final deep breath and an internal pep talk, Mike heads down to the Dining Hall.  


* * *

  
If there’s one thing the Dining Hall does right, it's the weekend brunch.

Mike’s always heard about how good it feels to eat greasy and salty food when hungover, but he never expected to actually experience it until later in his college career. As he shoves another piece of bacon into his mouth, however, he realizes it’s true. The conversation with El so far has been awkward but still natural. Both of them are dealing with their hangovers with different drinks: Mike with a large glass of Gatorade, El opting for a cup of tea with honey. But the hangovers remind them of last night, and that's primarily what their conversation is focused on. Mike is halfway through wondering aloud about Dustin's phone number story when suddenly— 

"Mike." 

The single utterance of his name, breathless and gentle, brings Mike’s rambling to a grinding halt. The tense look on El’s face, combined with Mike’s own nervousness, has him filling with concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, Mike. It's just, we need to talk about something that happened last night." 

"Oh God." Mike eyes widen as his words begin to trip over each other. "Did I make you feel uncomfortable? It was my first time getting drunk and if I did anything to make you feel awful I'm so, so sorry—" 

El's hand shoots up and Mike falls silent. "No, Mike, no. You were actually very kind. You made me feel safe.” She looks directly into Mike’s eyes before she continues. "We need to talk about what happened on the couch." 

"Oh! The thing with Steve!" Mike relaxes. "It’s, it's really okay, trust me, people have said a lot worse about my sister, you should have heard the shit that Tommy H. used to say back in high school—”

"No, no, Mike," El stammers. "Not that." 

Mike’s eyebrows knit together. "Then what?”

"What I said after Steve left.”

"Oh, that you like me, it's okay." Mike's gaze drops to the table. "I understand you meant it as a friend and I'm not going to read into it anymore and it's okay, you were drunk and I know you weren't thinking clearly, so it’s fine.”

El takes in a deep breath, similar to the one that Mike used to take before diving into the swimming pool in high school. "Here's the problem, Mike. I didn't mean it as a friend" 

“Then how did you mean it?" 

A blush creeps up on El’s cheeks, and she breathes in again before spouting, "I have a crush on you.”

 _“What?”_ Mike sputters, his brain short-circuiting. “Why? When?”

“Since I first met you, back in September,” El starts to explain. “You’re so cute, and so smart, and you have such a kind heart. Like when Max needed a jacket, and you gave her yours, even though I know you were cold. You treat me so respectfully, and I see the way you look at me, and I want to know if you look at me just as a friend, or as something even more, because I… I’m going to be honest, Mike… I want more.”

Mike doesn't know if he could even say anything, which is good because El just keeps going. 

"And if you don't want more, I completely understand, because you have so many different options and… and I'm just an introverted girl who spends all her free time in her dorm room and doesn't really have friends, except… except you guys." By the time she finishes, El's hands have fallen onto the table, and her gaze has fallen into her lap, like she doesn’t want to face the rejection she knows is coming.

Mike gapes at El, speechless, barely able to comprehend what just happened. All he can think is:

_SHE LIKES ME BACK!_

“M-Mike...” El’s gaze rises back up to Mike’s face, but she still doesn’t meet Mike’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

Mike exhales, raising one of his hands to rest it gently on top of El’s, where it rests on the table. El shivers at his touch.

“I… I want more,” Mike says. “I have a crush on you too, El. I didn’t think you felt the same way. I mean, you’re… you’re _you._ You’re so cute and you’re so passionate about so many things we both like, and there’s so much joy behind your eyes and being near you makes me feel happy and… I thought you would have found someone better than me.” Mike's gaze drops into his lap as his ramble fades out.

The silence that stretches across the table is light, like the air around them has been lifted because of the weight of what they’ve shared.

Suddenly, Mike starts to giggle. “Wow,” he whispers. “I didn’t expect this to happen.”

El looks up, and their eyes meet for the first time after their confessions. It feels like they’re finally on the same page, after searching through countless books. “What should we do, then?”

“I don’t know,” Mike says, honestly. “How about we talk about it over dinner tomorrow night?”

El smiles softly, a blush rising on her cheeks. “Are you asking me on a date?”

"Fuck it,” Mike says, nervous laughter bubbling up. “It’s a date.”  


* * *

  
The walk back to Jennings with El is, Mike thinks, one of the greatest moments of his life. Her arm is wrapped around his own, with her face gently pressed into his shoulder, as they walk side-by-side toward their dorm. Mike feels like his heart could explode out of his chest at any moment. There’s no conversation, both of them content in the fact that they already know what the other is thinking. Neither of them can stop grinning as they walk into the building and head toward the elevator. By the time the elevator hits the third floor, they’re hand-in-hand, fingers interlocked, as they head down the hallway toward their respective dorms.

Mike’s room, 306, is first.

"This is your stop," El says, looking up at Mike with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Well, yeah,” Mike says, mirroring El’s smile. “But my mom raised me to be a gentleman, and that includes walking a girl home.”

“Aww. You _are_ a gentleman.”

They walk the few steps to 312, hand in hand, and stop when El reaches for her keys. 

“By the way,” Mike mumbles, looking down at his feet. “The group wants to play some video games in my room later, at like eight.” He looks back at El. “Do you want to come?”

“I think so,” El says softly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Mike gives an unsure smile, as if to signal that he doesn’t want to let go of El’s hand yet. With a deep breath and a final grin, he releases El’s hand and turns toward his own dorm.

As Mike starts to go, though, El decides to throw caution to the wind. She reaches out, soft hand grasping at Mike’s, and pulls him back to face her.

Mike’s brows knit with concern. “What’s wron—” 

But Mike doesn’t get a chance to finish that question, because before the words fully leave his lips, El lips cut them off.

Mike’s never kissed anyone before, and when El’s lips touch his for the first time, he feels almost like he could pass out. He never knew what a kiss could feel like, and as he starts to kiss El back, his lips slanting against hers, thousands of new emotions explode like fireworks through his body.

El’s emotions are also working in overdrive. The nervous energy of trying to kiss Mike soon turns into unadulterated joy when he begins to kiss her back.

As quickly as the kiss began, it ends, with El pulling away and looking up at Mike with joy radiating from her tiny frame. “See you at eight.”

“See you at eight,” Mike echoes, smiling.

El throws Mike a wink as she slips into her room, and just like that, she’s gone.

All Mike can think of as he walks back to 306 is seeing El later, and he feels like he’s on clouds as he slips his key into the lock and opens the door to face his—now conscious—roommate.

“Dustin, you are _not_ going to fucking believe this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> I'm actually really proud of this fic as this is my first time writing an AU. Please leave a comment or a Kudos as those have a tremendous positive impact on me and I really like hearing from you. If this fic gets a big enough reaction and people would like to see more of Western Indiana University, I will write a sequel that takes place in the same college/timeline.
> 
> If you'd like to follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Jacketsarepants), I would appreciate it greatly, as I'm always looking for more people to share my love of Stranger Things with.
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for reading!


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